


Tails We Win, Heads You Lose

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Decapitation, M/M, Sadstuck, Update fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 23:03:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The prospect of killing yourself is not a desirable one and you wish it didn't involved materializing your head off your shoulders. It scares you more that there will be a moment--no matter how brief--where you won't be in control of what is happening. You'll be out of commission for good even only for a sliver of time and in that window everything will be in Jake's hands."</p>
<p>The sacrifice of a prince, as told by two different perspectives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first update fic I've done in awhile, because gosh this update was just perfect...I have a lot of feelings for Dirk especially (also Jake) and I wanted to expound more upon them
> 
> Enjoy! <3

 

 

You got it, you got it you got this, you are fucking ice cold right now and nothing is going to stop you from going through with this. 

Jane is relying on this and Roxy is relying on this and Jake and the whole damn session so you're not going to let a couple of nerves that won't even matter in the end stop you from doing what you have to. 

The prospect of killing yourself is not a desirable one and you wish it didn't involved materializing your head off your shoulders. It scares you more that there will be a moment--no matter how brief--where you won't be in control of what is happening. You'll be out of commission for good even only for a sliver of time and in that window _everything_ will be in Jake's hands.  

It scares you to lose control of even one tiny variable but a small wash of calm warms over you at the thought of who you're putting your trust in. Jake may be kind of a gullible dude at times but there's no way he'll let you nor your severed heard nor Jane or Roxy down.

You feel kind of bad because this will probably wig him out bad, and you wish there was a different way but you and AR determined this to be the best and most effective course of action. 

Your body is acting on adrenaline right now, and for once there's little time to think and dwell and calculate and instead you just have to _act_ , the bleeding red box of your appearing in your hands and then on your head and then there's only a slight moment of hesitation when you realize that you're sixteen-years-old and you're about to commit suicide and you're a kid and you shouldn't have to be doing this and you don't want to do this but before you begin to sweat and wreck your shit you just press the button and--

_Ah--_

Fuck you didn't really expect it to hurt at all, though the inter-spatial subatomic severance of flesh certainly isn't no picnic in the park but you figured the blood and nerves would be cut off too quickly for you to actually be conscious of any pain but it'll--

Be over--

_\--soon._

Your thoughts and sputtering and sporadic and time seems to be moving in slow motion, the last remaining shreds of your life unraveling and spiraling off into the darkness and god this is more pretentious then you'd thought it'd be--

\--supposed to just be quick and painless with none of this bullshit fuck d-damn--

Oh but there's-- _Jake_ for a split second before your ocular sense is cut, before your neurons crackle and explode into dust there he is and it worked it fucking worked and god you hope he's okay god god damn you hope he can do this it's all up to him now--

You're grateful you have your shades on because you don't think your blood-starved brain has enough in it to close your eyes and you don't want to freak Jake out any more than he's gonna be by having your glazed over peepers staring at him the whole time but there's no time left to worry now, it's gonna be fine Jake can do it-- 

You have a quick break before you'll be back in action so you think it's okay to just

_Rest._

_  
_


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

Your name is Jake English and you are kind of sort of secretly freaking the fuck out right now!

Okay, perhaps not as secretly as you would hope, if your outward gesticulation and eschewing of any vocal restraint is any indication, but the fact that you are keeping _any_ handle on your actions right now given the situation is a blooming _miracle_. 

The current situation being that you just woke up mere moments ago to the decapitated head of your recently departed best bro deposited at your unconscious feet like a freakin' Christmas present, all wrapped up in the warm welcome from an artificial messenger of _guess what, all of your friends are dead._

__

It's a complete and utter shock to you, despite all the strange things you've seen today, to suddenly have your friend's head appearify out of nowhere all bloody and gross and definitely, 100% dead as a doorstop. You haven't seen a dead human up close in years--you'd forgotten what it was like and frankly, you wish you wouldn't have been reminded of it. It's always unpleasant and unexpected and quite terrifying even to your enterprising spirit. 

In your movies, well, the bad guys usually meet their end in explosions or from falling multiple stories so you don't ever really _see_ them die. Or they're robots or aliens so it's not really all that creepy or gross when they get killed by the hero. And even when the hero or the love interest or the loyal best friend meets their end the actual bloody bits are downplayed in favor of tearful goodbyes and promises of vengeance and all that important character development. 

You _do_ have a couple of scary movies that capitulate on that sort of thing. They're not your favorite because it's a bit spooky-- _not that you'd ever admit that to anyone--_ to watch horror movies all alone on an island filled with ferocious fauna and god knows what else but you still have seen them and you've seen the blood and gore and guts so it's not like you don't know about all the ways the human body can be torn up and such. 

But golly, this is abso-flippin'-lutely nothing like any of those movies! 

The cut is too surgical, too precise--nothing sawed off or gross or sinewy like all the scary movie effects. Still, it must have hurt pretty bad, or maybe not, did Dirk even live long enough to feel the pain? You know there were those stories about guillotined heads living and being conscious for a bit after they died, so maybe he…

Gosh, that makes you pretty sick to just think about!

This whole situation just makes you feel pretty unpleasant and queasy all around, actually. And not just because of the fact that it's pretty nauseating to be confronted with Dirk's truncated head, though that's rather ghastly in and of itself!  

Really, this just--you don't know. By God you sound like a terribly spoilt child but really-- you can't stop feeling that this whole ordeal just isn't _fair._

You'd never spoken about it to a soul but late at night when you were especially lonely and your friends had gone to bed and none of your movies could hold your interests you had let your thoughts wander. They'd meandered around and around until you'd finally found yourself in a miasma of _feelings_ about people and about _Dirk_ especially and God sometimes you had even imagined what it would be like to  just kiss him. Be the smooth and suave Casanova and smooch him until he's breathless just like you've always wanted! Well, not that you've always wanted it with _Dirk_ but you've always dreamed of your first kiss with a real actual human and not a poster to be cool and climactic and just frickin' amazing!

But now the glasses are yammering on about you having to kiss Dirk to save everyone and your mouth is on autopilot, barking back retorts and colloquialisms too quaint for even your usual fare. Your mind is too busy with all of these thoughts to engage with it properly, especially when it's babbling on about obscure references and all that malarky!

He eggs you on, and you finally reach down and p-pick up the head. It's about the same size and weight as a pumpkin, except its not a pumpkin and you're holding the head of your best pal who you've shared countless late night conversations with and who you maybe have a small tiny crush on and who is now dead and requiring your assistance in order to be brought back to life. 

Blimey, you're lucky he had his glasses on when he, uh--was _transported_ here, because you don't think you could handle looking into his eyes at this point!

Still, even without his eyes uncovered the image is still a bit disturbing so you try to focus on everything that's not the blood and the lack of body but that doesn't really help all that much. Golly, you didn't expect him to be this pale. Pale enough that his freckles stand out like little brown islands against a milky sea. Or expect his hair to be this light. You suppose the skin thing is probably because of the fact that all the b-blood is draining out of him right now but the light almost platinum-white hair must just be all Dirk. Unless that's also a thing that happens when you die--your hair stands straight up and goes stark, just like in the cartoons. 

Then you look at his lips which are bloodied and stained and you gulp even as encouraging red text sprawls across your skulltop's viewscreen. You suppose you have to do this sooner rather than later.

It was probably dumb and girlish to fancify your first kiss like that but the fact that the first real lips you'll ever kiss are those belonging to the severed head of your best bro is kind of disappointing and disconcerting and not at all what you had wanted. 

All of your hypothetical plans are falling through and breaking apart but there's no time to think because the glasses are egging you on and on and telling you you have to kiss Dirk's head right now or else Jane and Roxy will stay dead and Dirk will be gone forever and then you _really_ wont have a chance to say all of the things that have been building up within you all this time. 

So you tell the glasses to shut its non-existent mouth and press your palms closer to the cheeks of Dirk's head and God it's still slightly warm and not totally stone-cold and maybe this won't be _so_ bad, maybe you can just pretend this will be as cool and awesome and romantic as you had planned out in your head beforehand. 

And a small little hope inside of you prays that once this is all done with and you bring Dirk back, he'll be happy to institute a redo. 


End file.
